


Take The Reins

by intotheruins



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Begging, Bottom Dean, Collars, Established Relationship, Frottage, Healing, Leashes, Light/playful bondage, M/M, Playing, Praise Kink, Rimming, Top Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-02
Updated: 2014-10-02
Packaged: 2018-02-19 13:51:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2390678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intotheruins/pseuds/intotheruins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean just needs someone to take the reins for a while.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take The Reins

**Author's Note:**

> So this was another dream I had, only it wasn't as clear as 32 Seconds. All I remembered was Castiel putting a leash and collar on Dean. I started writing it with something a little darker in mind, and then this... playful, weird thing happened.

It's after Sam tells him that they can't be brothers anymore that Dean goes to Castiel with his request.

He has to explain to Cas what he needs, but that's okay. Dean expected that. Castiel wouldn't do what Dean's asking of him on his own. He probably wouldn't even think of it. Dean's slept with more people than he really cared to remember, yet it was Castiel who taught him the meaning of “making love”. Even when he was angry with Dean, even when they were only in bed because it was either that or beat the shit out of each other... even then, Castiel's every action conveyed his overwhelming love for Dean. 

Dean loves Castiel, too, _god_ does he love him, and that's the only reason that he can ask for what he needs – that and the trust he has in his angel no matter how much they've gone through.

Castiel didn't understand at first. He didn't tell Dean what he wanted was wrong, or disgusting, or anything else that might have just finished Dean off at that point. He just listened with his head tilted, blue eyes concerned but willing to hear Dean out. It didn't help that Dean wasn't being particularly articulate. He had a general idea of what he wanted, but he didn't know exactly how to express it. So he explained as well as he could, and in the end Castiel nodded solemnly and said, “I think I understand.”

He smiled then, and told Dean he'd come back later, before he went out to the car that poorly substituted for his wings. 

That was hours ago. Dean's been lying on his bed ever since, listening to music he can't really hear as he wonders what Castiel is up to.

Dean's facing the door, so he sees it when it opens. He pulls off his headphones and sets the mp3 player aside, and when he turns back Castiel is closing the door. He's holding something in his right hand, something he's hiding inside his coat, and that has Dean instantly intrigued. He sits up to get a better view, but Castiel only hides it deeper and shakes his head once. 

“I think I understand, Dean,” Castiel repeats his earlier words quietly. He comes forward a few steps but stays well away from the bed, and Dean doesn't move. “I did some research into the subject. You said you wanted me to take away control.”

He pauses, so Dean nods in confirmation. Castiel's slight hesitance makes Dean think he may have made the angel a little uncomfortable with this request, but he's still willing to do this for Dean and Dean can't even begin to think of a way to express how grateful he is for that.

Castiel draws in a deep breath he doesn't need and nods as well. “You want me to... _own_... you for a little while?”

The word “own” on Castiel's lips, the way he says it so certainly and yet carefully, sends a shudder of need rippling down Dean's spine. _Yes,_ he thinks dazedly, _fuck yes._ He wants Cas to own him, to tell him what to do. 

For a little while. Dean can't help the tiny smile that quirks at the corners of his lips at that. 

“Yeah,” Dean says hoarsely. 

Castiel smiles. It's gentle and understanding and completely without judgment. Dean wants to kiss him for it, but he's pretty sure this game has already started, so he stays still and just waits for Cas to tell him what to do.

“Do you have a... a safeword?” Castiel says it like he's uncertain he used the correct term. He tilts his head in question.

“I can come up with one,” Dean says, even more intrigued now because Castiel wasn't kidding when he said he did his research. 

“It should be something you'll remember easily.”

The first thing that pops into Dean's head is _cherry pie_. He thinks he can remember that in any situation. He tells Castiel, who nods in a thoughtful way that says he's just filed the information away in his mind. 

“All right.” Castiel draws in another breath and nods again, this time to himself. “Dean, I want you to get on all fours on the floor.”

The request -- no, the _order --_ briefly has Dean wondering why before he promptly shuts his brain off. He crawls off the bed and gets on his hands and knees facing Castiel _,_ and waits. 

He thinks it should be embarrassing, or that he should be tense with anticipation, but he's neither. He's calm, so incredibly calm, because someone else is going to take care of things for a while. He doesn't have to worry about anything. Castiel will take care of him.

It's such a relief, and he hopes Castiel can see it in his eyes.

The angel finally pulls out the item he's been hiding in his coat. It's a thick leather collar, plain but for the silver buckle, and there's a very long leather leash attached to it that's nearly as thick. Dean stares at it with wide eyes. Under normal circumstances he might have been mortified or humiliated by the very idea. Now, with Castiel the one holding the item he'd likely thoughtfully picked just for Dean's request? It turns Dean on so much that he lets out an involuntary whine and his hips stutter towards the floor, seeking friction. 

Castiel looks relieved by the reaction, and Dean sees confidence begin to settle in his steady gaze. He steps forward and kneels in front of Dean, unbuckling the collar as he moves. Dean tilts his head back a bit so the angel can fit the ring of leather against his throat, and then ducks down so that it's easier for Castiel to buckle it. It's snug and cool against his skin, but not too tight, and it sends a strange, heady thrill through Dean that makes him shiver. 

The leash is snapped into place, but then Castiel drops it, lets it hang down against Dean's neck and coil just within his line of sight. Dean watches, slightly confused, as Castiel sits down on the floor in front of Dean and tucks his legs in underneath him. He looks kind of silly in that huge coat, like a child wearing his father's jacket, and Dean can't help but smile at the thought. Castiel smiles back, and that surprises Dean a little. He'd expected something more like what he's seen in videos, barked orders and filthy talk about how dirty he was, or something, but even as he thinks it he's pretty sure that's not what he wanted.

“Come,” Castiel says gently, beckoning with crooked fingers. Dean crawls forward until he's right in front of Cas again. Castiel smiles approvingly and reaches up to stroke a hand down Dean's head, fingertips playing through his hair and sending tingles all along Dean's scalp. “Down,” he says, and presses carefully to the back of Dean's neck. 

Dean lays down, rolling onto his side and curling his legs up so he's almost tucked into a ball. More pressure to his neck encourages him to lay his cheek against Castiel's inner thigh. He can feel the warmth of the skin through the layer of Castiel's dress pants. It seeps into his cheek and makes him close his eyes on a contented sigh. 

Castiel's hand begins to stroke Dean's hair again. He digs under the hair to massage Dean's scalp, eventually wandering down to rub Dean's neck above the collar. Dean sighs again, turns his head so he can nuzzle into Castiel's leg. The punch of arousal from before has dwindled, and Dean is only slightly surprised to realize he's barely half-hard. 

Dean settles his cheek against Castiel's leg again. “Can I talk?” he asks quietly. They haven't really established rules, but he's starting to think they're not really going to.

“Yes,” Castiel replies. 

“Feels good,” Dean murmurs. He reaches up a hand and runs it over the knee he's not laying across, but then pauses, uncertain if this is okay. Maybe he does need rules; he's starting to think more than he wants to. He says as much to Cas.

“You may touch me as much as you like, Dean,” Castiel says softly. “And anywhere you want, unless I tell you to stop. You may also speak freely unless I say otherwise.”

Dean relaxes again, and lets his hand run up Castiel's leg. He loves touching Castiel, loves that he's even _allowed_ to touch his angel. Loves even more knowing that there's a being inside this body that never experienced physical touch before taking a vessel, before becoming human and truly possessing that body, and that Dean got to teach him all the joys of it. 

The hand on Dean's neck moves lower, slipping under his shirt and rubbing firmly at the muscles between Dean's shoulder blades. Tension he didn't even realized was there begins to ease out of him, vanishing beneath the magic of the angel's touch. Dean groans appreciatively, but the sound quickly changes to a disappointed whine when Castiel slides his hand away.

“Shh.” Castiel pets Dean's hair once and then removes his hand completely. “Sit up.”

Dean does so, pushing himself up onto his knees. The leash drags beside him, tapping against his arm and reminding him of its presence. It's hard to forget the firm press of the collar, but the leash is much less intrusive until Dean moves. He reaches out curiously, tangling his fingers in the leather and looping it around his hand, wondering what it will feel like when Castiel takes it in his own grip. 

The green shirt that Dean's wearing is unbuttoned, so Castiel reaches out and pushes it off Dean's shoulders. He has to let go of the leash to let it fall to the floor. The t-shirt comes off next, and that's a little trickier. Dean finds himself laughing as they try to tug it off over the leash and almost get it tangled up instead. Castiel chuckles as well, a low rumble in his chest that Dean wants to press himself against, so he does. He reaches out with both hands and pushes them against Castiel's chest through too much clothing, feeling the vibration of the angel's laughter thrumming against his palms.

Castiel's hand is back on his neck, pressing through the collar gently. “Down,” Castiel orders softly, so Dean lays back down, but when he starts to turn on his side again Castiel stops him with a hand on his back. “Stay,” he says, so Dean settles on his stomach and buries his face between Castiel's thighs, breathing in deeply the scent of arousal so close to his nose. Castiel's a little further along than Dean is, his cock already starting to tent his pants, and the sight of it sends a flurry of tingles between Dean's legs. 

“Are you getting hard, Dean?” Castiel asks, and Dean nods against his legs. Just the fact that Castiel is aroused by this has Dean's cock swelling against the hard floor, but even once he's fully hard he still doesn't feel any sense of urgency. He doesn't need to; Castiel will take care of him.

Castiel leans forward to put both hands on Dean's shoulders. The motion brushes his stomach against the back of Dean's head, and Dean can't help but twist around so that he can kiss it. Castiel chuckles, the light touch making his stomach muscles clench even through his shirt. Dean grins because he knows Castiel's a little ticklish there, and he thinks it's adorable. 

The angel's hands begin to knead into Dean's shoulders, pressing into muscles and melting away the knots of tension there. Dean lets his face drop back into Castiel's thighs and allows himself relax. Castiel will take care of him, he repeats. Castiel will take care of everything, Dean doesn't have to worry. He can let himself relax.

“Does this feel good?” Castiel asks. Dean can hear the concern and hope in his voice, so he nods vigorously against Castiel's legs to let him know that yes, it feels awesome. It feels even better when the hands move further down, thumbs digging deep into the flesh on either side of Dean's spine. Dean moans and arches into it, brings his own hands up and starts kneading at Castiel's hips in the hopes of returning some of the pleasure his angel is causing.

Castiel keeps going all the way down Dean's back, working slowly so that every muscle releases the tension Dean's kept coiled since... fuck, since he can't remember when. By the time he's rubbing along the waistline of Dean's jeans, Dean is simultaneously more relaxed than he can ever remember being and ridiculously turned on. He rubs his hips into the hard floor, seeking any kind of friction. 

“Stop,” Castiel says gently. He slides a hand onto Dean's ass and presses down. Dean's hands clench into Castiel's hips, but he manages to stop moving. He feels the hand on his ass rub circles through his jeans, thumb pressing in lightly along the crack, and it makes Dean pant with want but he doesn't move.

“Good boy,” Castiel praises. It _sounds_ like praise; there's no disguised contempt or thinly veiled attempts at dirty talk in Castiel's tone. He just sounds pleased, and it makes Dean feel unbelievably good, like he's done something right _for once._

“Lift your hips,” Castiel orders, so Dean does. Castiel's hands slide under him and undo his fly. He eases both jeans and boxers down Dean's hips at the same time, as far as he can before he can't bend any further over Dean. 

“Let me up for a moment,” he says. 

Dean reluctantly lifts himself off of Castiel's lap. The angel scoots around behind Dean and tugs off both boots and socks, and then pulls the jeans and boxers off and tosses them aside. Dean feels both hands settle just above his heels, and then Castiel pushes them up in one long, firm stroke all the way to the fatty part of Dean's thighs. Dean moans and tries his best not to move, but it's difficult when the touch sends pleasure signals zinging all over his body. 

Two thumbs sweep down and press into Dean's perineum. They stroke softly at first, then press in a little harder and Dean can't help but buck back into them. He folds his arms beneath his head and presses his face into them, bites his forearm as he tries to keep still. 

“Good boy,” Castiel murmurs again. He cups Dean's ass in both hands and pulls the cheeks apart, and Dean has to bite so hard he nearly breaks the skin in order to keep still when he feels hot breath rushing over his hole. Castiel's hands clench a little harder, and seconds later Dean feels a weird tingling around his hole and deep in his belly that means Castiel has just mojo-cleaned out his insides. 

Dean has about two seconds to process what that means before Castiel is pressing a kiss to Dean's entrance.

“Cas!” Dean throws his head back but manages not to move his hips. He hears Castiel hum in approval before he's running the tip of his tongue around the wrinkled skin, pressing lightly and letting his saliva run freely to slick the way. Dean quivers and pants and beats one fist against the floor to keep from shoving his ass into Castiel's face. Normally, Dean would start demanding right about now, but he has a feeling that won't fly tonight.

“Please?” He tries instead, but it comes out a little hesitant. He's never begged before. He's gotten Cas to beg and it was one of the hottest things he's ever seen, but he's never been able to let himself go enough to try it. 

He can now. Cas will take care of him.

“Please, Cas, come on, want your tongue in me.” Dean twists his head over his shoulder and gives the angel the most pleading stare he can muster up, eyes wide and wanting. He can just see Castiel looking up at him from between his cheeks, head tilted at an angle that probably hurts his neck, but he doesn't seem to care. 

Castiel lifts himself up a little. His lips and chin are shiny with saliva, and the sight makes Dean groan. He smiles at Dean and lets one of his thumbs slip down to rub circles around Dean's hole in place of his tongue.

“You're a very good boy, Dean,” Castiel says, low and warm, and Dean can practically feel himself beaming. “I think you deserve a treat.”

The thumb continues to rub firm little circles for a moment, teasing and sliding the slickness of Castiel's saliva around. Then Castiel pulls it away and lowers himself again, tongue sliding out to lick a firm swath right up Dean's crack before he seals his mouth around Dean's hole. His lips suck at the skin while his tongue presses in, in, as far as it can reach before Cas begins to shallowly thrust it as best he can in the tight space. Dean finds himself in the position of trying not to move while staying relaxed enough to let Castiel tongue-fuck him, until he feels Castiel's hands move to curl under his hips. He tugs at them until Dean starts thrusting back, keeps tugging for a moment to let Dean know it's all right before he simply settles them there. 

Dean's cock is aching now, thick and heavy between his legs. If this were any other time between them Castiel would be reaching for it already, but now he holds himself back. It almost hurts how badly Dean wants Castiel's fingers or mouth on him, but he's pretty sure if Castiel touches his dick right now he'll come on the spot. 

He's having a hard enough time not coming right now as it is. 

Castiel's tongue has stopped thrusting and is just sort of twisting inside him, and it feels fucking fantastic. Dean can feel saliva rolling down across his perineum and over his balls, and it tickles a little but it feels good, too, warm and slick and just the barest hint of touch. He's not so much thrusting as grinding back against Cas's face now, trying to get that tongue impossibly deeper. The need makes him whine in disappointment when Castiel pulls away instead. Dean pushes up on his elbows and twists just in time to see Castiel swipe a sleeve across his chin and mouth, wiping away the excess spit glinting on his skin. 

“Don't stop,” Dean begs breathlessly. He wiggles his hips back towards Castiel, asking for more. Castiel chuckles and lightly slaps Dean's left cheek. It doesn't hurt at all, it just makes Dean laugh and do it again, thrilling in the answering laugh he gets from his angel as he just as lightly slaps the other cheek. 

“I have something better for you,” Castiel assures him. “But you have to bring me the lube.”

Oh _fuck yes,_ Dean thinks, and he scrambles to do just that. He starts to stand, but at the last second he just pushes himself onto all fours and crawls to the nightstand instead. He likes this game they've started, and he feels like standing would ruin it somehow. 

There's a tube of KY in the drawer. Dean pushes up onto his knees and gets it out, and then crawls back to Cas, being careful to avoid squishing the tube too much. Castiel smiles and holds out his hand, but Dean hesitates. He's a little curious to see how far he can go with this game. Instead of handing the tube straight over, Dean hunches down like a dog waiting for a ball to be thrown, and grins mischievously at Cas. 

“Come and get it,” Dean says gruffly. 

Castiel tilts his head, considering Dean with such a blank look that Dean can't tell if he's upset or amused by this turn of events. 

And then the angel is pouncing on Dean, literally, like an eager, playful puppy. Dean's laugh sounds more like a bark as he wriggles and squirms and finally gets out from under Castiel. He clutches the tube tightly and tries to crawl away, but Castiel leaps on his back and uses his weight to drive Dean down to the floor. They're both laughing as they land, the sounds breathless and light and Dean always thinks he can't love Castiel more than he already does, and he's always wrong.

“I'm sorry, Dean,” Castiel says suddenly. Dean's surprised by the apology, and he's about to ask what in the world Cas is sorry for when the angel keeps talking. “I didn't know you wanted to play, too.”

Dean's about to open his mouth to say Cas has nothing to be sorry for, but then he suddenly feels a tug at his collar that makes him look down and to the side. Castiel is wrapping his hand around the leash, curling it around and around like a thick black snake. He pulls it back until Dean can feel the pressure of the collar against his throat, but it doesn't tighten any more than is comfortable. Just like that, Dean's back to being painfully aroused. He feels himself begin to shake as he waits for whatever Castiel wants him to do next.

“Up on all fours,” Castiel commands, and Dean scrambles to do so. He thinks he's going to feel the first cool shock of lube, but he doesn't. Instead, Castiel shuffles up behind him and rubs his still clothed cock against Dean's ass, rutting into him like the dogs they are apparently pretending to be. Dean moans appreciatively at the feel of Castiel's thick heat and grinds back, forgoing any ideas of finesse and letting his body do whatever it wants. 

It's when Castiel gasps and says his name like a prayer that Dean has to stop, but only so he can turn and mouth at Castiel's erection through his pants. Castiel moans and grips the leash tighter, but he doesn't pull Dean away. He lifts the leather to his lips and kisses it, staring down at Dean as he does it, and Dean thinks he can feel that press of lips against his neck through the collar. 

“Want your cock.” Dean rubs his cheek against it, then pulls back and finds the head, sucks on it through the material and revels in the deep, strangled sound he draws from Castiel. He starts to reach up to undo Castiel's pants, but he feels a sudden, light jerk from the leash that makes him stop and tilt his head up in question.

“Not yet,” Castiel pants. 

He smiles when Dean nods and reluctantly backs away, reaches down to pet Dean's hair a few times. When he stops, Dean turns back around hopefully, dropping down onto his elbows and displaying himself in a clear invitation. Instead of the touch he was hoping for, Dean feels the leash released and laid carefully along his back in a thick coil. 

“Stay,” Castiel orders. Dean nods once and holds himself like that, refusing to let himself turn no matter how much he wants to, and he gets another few strokes through his hair for it. “Good boy,” Castiel says warmly. “Good dog.”

Dean gasps and rubs his head back into Castiel's hand, wondering briefly if that should turn him on as much as it does before he decides he doesn't care.

The angel's hand leaves Dean's head. He strains for any sounds and hears the rustle of clothes being removed, the thump of shoes being kicked off. He wants to turn and look at Castiel. He wants to see the body he's come to associate with the angel he loves so much it hurts, to see his eyes light up when Dean does something that pleases him. _Not yet_ , he tells himself. _Cas will tell you when._

The rustling stops, and then Dean feels the warmth of Castiel behind him, so close but not quite touching. The leash is picked up again. Dean feels it slipping along the skin of his back as Castiel lifts it, but instead of disappearing completely it is instead dragged downwards. Castiel brushes it over Dean's ass, softly, just trailing in along the skin in a gentle tease that has Dean thrusting back for more. 

“More?” Dean asks. It's getting easier to ask rather than demand. Dean likes how it feels, likes that even that small amount of control has been willingly surrendered to Castiel.

Dean can hear the smile in Castiel's voice when he says, “More...?”

Dean grins. “More, please,” he says, and he's shocked by how light his voice is. He almost sounds happy, and that isn't something Dean's felt in more than tiny bursts in years. 

The leash goes taut before it is slipped into Dean's crack. Castiel rubs it there, firm but slow, the now warm leather riding over Dean's hole in one long, sensuous slide. The motions tug a little at Dean's collar. He dips his head lower so that the tugs are just a bit harder because he likes the reminder, likes knowing that Castiel has all that control over him and is using it to set Dean free. 

No one, not even Sam, has ever been able to work out the things Dean really needs, and yet Castiel figured it out with nothing more than an uncertain request, a little research, and what he knew of Dean. 

Dean wants to tell him how much he loves him, but he's only ever said it once, a frantic whisper into Castiel's ear when he found his angel standing beside the river in Purgatory, dirty and scruffy and the most perfect thing Dean has ever seen. 

“Cas.” 

Dean's voice is rough, and the motions of the leash abruptly stop. “Dean?”

“I...” Dean lets out a frustrated huff. “Can I turn over?”

“Yes.” Castiel pulls the leash back and guides Dean over and onto his back with a hand on his hip. He looks worried, his brow wrinkled into a concerned frown that makes Dean smile with how warm and full his chest suddenly feels. “Did I--?”

“No,” Dean interrupts. He does not want Castiel thinking he did anything wrong because he couldn't have done anything more _right._ “I just... You know I... right?” 

Dean's never been able to use words like Sam. He can't communicate that way as easily as his brother, never could. He communicates with silences, with his body and with his eyes, and Castiel... Castiel understands him. 

“I love you too, Dean,” Castiel says quietly. The corners of his eyes crinkle when he smiles widely, gazing down at Dean like he's something precious, and as much as a part of Dean wants to fight that look, wants to argue that he's nothing special, he soaks it up instead. Castiel didn't say he couldn't, so therefore it's all right. 

Dean grins, feeling light and weird and happier than he has in forever, and turns back over onto all fours. As much as he enjoys facing Cas, he likes this position right now, likes the game Castiel has created for them. He wiggles his ass just to hear Castiel laugh, and then makes a very dog-like yelp when cold lube is suddenly poured between his cheeks. Castiel chuckles at the sound and swipes up most of the liquid before it can escape between Dean's legs, rubbing it up and around his hole. Dean drops his head between his shoulders and sucks in a deep breath, letting his lower body relax as much as it can while he's holding it up. His stomach clenches up in anticipation, and when Castiel finally sinks his index finger inside Dean lets out a sharp grunt like he's been punched. 

They don't do it this way very often. It's usually Cas under Dean, Cas begging for Dean to enter him. 

“Okay?” Castiel asks, and Dean lifts his head and nods. 

It scared him, the first time Castiel did this. He felt powerless somehow, like giving this to Castiel would be demeaning even though he knew that was ridiculous. He didn't feel like he was taking anything from Castiel when he fucked him, and he knew Castiel didn't feel like he gave anything up. It took Castiel nearly a full hour to work Dean up to it, and he was nothing but patient the entire time. It wasn't until he was buried inside Dean, his eyes wide and pupils blown, expression awed and open and vulnerable, that Dean understood. Being filled, being the one to give that kind of pleasure while receiving – not taking, another difference Dean hadn't understood – an entirely unique kind of pleasure was one of the best feelings in the entire damn world. 

They've been in this position a few times since, but it still shocks Dean with its intensity every time Castiel slides that first finger inside.

Castiel pushes all the way in slowly, the slide easy with the amount of lube he's used. Dean sighs when the finger twists and rubs inside him, grinds his hips back in tiny circles but doesn't ask for more yet. He likes the slow build of this, likes how long it takes for Castiel to open him up properly so that it only burns a little when he finally slides his cock inside. 

“Good boy, Dean,” Castiel murmurs, reaching up to rub a hand up and down Dean's back soothingly. 

Dean frowns. He shakes his head and makes a confused, keening sound in his throat, uncertain what's wrong. He liked that before, why had that changed?

Castiel's hand pauses on his back, and then suddenly reaches up and takes hold of the leash again. “Good dog,” Castiel says instead, quietly, and Dean sighs contentedly. 

One finger becomes two, and Castiel reaches in deep to press the tips against Dean's prostate. Dean lets out a shout and pushes back, growling when Cas pulls his fingers away from the spot. The angel chuckles and lightly tugs on the leash to scold him. He drives his fingers back in slowly, so slowly that it has Dean shaking with how badly he just wants them _in_ , and presses briefly against Dean's sweet spot again before retreating. 

“Can you take three now?” Castiel asks. It's a little sooner than they would usually do it, but Dean's more than ready for it now. He nods once and groans in relief at the stretch of a third finger pushing inside. 

“S'good,” Dean assures him as he pushes back against Cas's hand, encouraging him to thrust harder. 

“Good,” Castiel echoes. He begins to twist his fingers every time he thrusts inside, avoiding Dean's prostate but still causing the most mangled noises to fall from Dean's lips. Then he suddenly buries them as deep inside as he can get them, and holds them there. When Dean thrusts back frantically, he tugs on the leash until Dean stills.

“I want you to hold still now, Dean,” Castiel orders. “Can you hold still until I tell you to move?”

Dean sucks in a deep breath and nods once. He groans in disappointment when Castiel pulls his fingers out, but it quickly turns to an eager gasp when he feels the slick, blunt head of Castiel's cock pressing against his loosened entrance. The head slides in easily, but Castiel doesn't push in further. He holds himself there even though Dean can feel the thighs so close to his own quivering with need, like he's testing to see if Dean be able to do as he was told. 

It just about kills Dean to have that little bit of Cas inside him and nothing more, but he manages to hold still. He breathes deeply, head hung down between his arms again, and thinks of how amazing it's going to feel when Castiel is finally buried completely inside him.

“Good,” Castiel murmurs. “Good boy, Dean, good dog. You can move now.”

Oh thank fuck. Dean slams back against Castiel, taking the entire length inside all at once. He spasms around Castiel's cock at the sudden intrusion, but he can't bring himself to care because he's finally _full._ He grinds back, trying to get at an angle so that the head will hit his prostate.

“Dean.” Both of Castiel's hands appear on either side of Dean's head. The leash is held between them, and Dean pauses in his movements with sudden curiosity. “Open your mouth, Dean.”

Dean does, and the leash is set gently between his teeth. One hand comes in close and strokes Dean's jaw until he bites down on the leather. Castiel's hands go behind his head again, but Dean can feel from the pressure against the corners of his mouth that Cas still has the leash in his hands, holding it like reins behind Dean's head. It's weirdly exhilarating, but it's also a little confusing, and Dean starts to try and communicate that around the leather when Castiel speaks.

“This is to help you, Dean,” Castiel says softly. “You're not going to speak now. You'll want to, but I know you want to be a good boy, and this will help.” There's a pause, and then he adds, “Nod once if you understand, shake once if you want to use your safeword.”

Dean nods once. He has no intention of safewording. The thought hasn't even crossed his mind.

As soon as Dean nods, Castiel starts to move. He draws back slowly, until just the head is inside Dean, and then plunges back in at the same speed. Normally, Dean would object to this kind of pace, but right now it feels so fantastic he doesn't have a word of complaint. 

Castiel leans forward, taking some of the pressure off of Dean's mouth from the makeshift gag. He bends down until he can press a kiss between Dean's shoulder blades. His hips move in small circles, able to do little else from the awkward angle, but Dean doesn't mind. It feels good, a slow, mild kind of burn that doesn't make Dean feel quite as frantic. 

“You're beautiful.”

Dean freezes. He bites down on the leather in his mouth and turns his head sharply, yanking one of Castiel's hands around with him. Castiel looks over his shoulder at him, gaze solemn and quiet and suddenly Dean understands why the leash is where it is, and why it's supposed to help. He bites down even harder and turns away, eyes squeezing closed.

He doesn't safeword. But it's close.

“Dean,” Castiel says gently. “You _are_ beautiful. Every time I see you I'm amazed by it, even if I saw you five minutes ago.” Castiel rears back and thrusts into Dean once, hard enough to rock Dean forward and yet somehow still so careful. Dean chokes on a moan that has nothing to do with the pleasure that courses through his body and everything to do with Castiel's words. “You know your body is beautiful, but you think your soul is ugly. You think that beauty is only skin deep and nothing could be further from the truth.”

Dean hisses around the leash and tries to spit it out. He's starting to panic, but before he can truly get there Castiel is suddenly crushed against his back, one hand holding both ends of the leash and the other wrapped around Dean's chest. Dean's knees give out under the unexpected weight and they end up crushed together on the floor. Castiel presses his cheek to Dean's, and Dean thinks he should feel smothered by him but he doesn't. He feels safe, so stupidly safe.

Castiel will take care of him.

“It's all right, Dean,” Castiel whispers. He rubs his cheek along Dean's, scratching their stubble together without regard to the burn that's going to leave later. “You can give me that, too. You don't have to control your emotions.”

Oh fuck, he _wants_ to. Dean also kind of wants to curse Cas for knowing, for somehow seeing that Dean hasn't let himself go completely, and at the same time he wants to kiss him senseless and beg Cas to make him keep going. 

Dean bites down once on the leather, and then relaxes. Completely. He lets his body go utterly limp and imagines every last shred of control he'd unconsciously held onto going with it.

“Good dog, Dean,” Castiel says happily, so damn happy like he's the one who's receiving some kind of healing he didn't even know he needed.

Even through the haze of his almost-panic, Dean can't help but love how it feels when Castiel praises him. 

Castiel presses a kiss to Dean's cheek and wriggles his arm out from under Dean's chest. He plants his hands beside Dean's shoulders and spreads his thighs, getting his knees anchored on the floor so he can start moving again in slow, shallow thrusts. Dean's cock is crushed against the floor, but he doesn't try to do anything about it because Castiel will take care of him.

“I'm going to tell you what I see,” Castiel says, gently but firmly. “I see a soul who fought the corruption of Hell. Who would do anything to protect his family, but also to protect total strangers. Who has given so much love that he has none left for himself.”

Dean squeezes his eyes shut again and tries to deny he's shaking, and then he doesn't. He lets it happen, lets Castiel give him his view of Dean, lets it soak inside and assure him that he's not as worthless as he thinks he is because Castiel wants him to, Castiel is taking care of him.

It's the most terrifying thing he's ever done, but it's okay. Castiel's taking care of him.

“I see you when you think you can't take all the darkness in the world anymore,” Castiel continues, his voice a little more breathless now, a little more rushed. The next thrust is more forceful and Dean groans with it, bites down into the leash but doesn't move, just lets the pleasure wash over him. “And then you do something like make us breakfast because even though you're so tired, you still want to take care of us.” 

Dean knows “us” is Sam and Cas. He also knows Cas is trying not to say his brother's name while they have sex, and the knowledge makes him chuckle suddenly, a warm flush of fondness gathering in his chest and easing some of the pressure left from his panic. 

“I see you when you fix your car and treat it as though it has feelings,” Castiel says, and now his tone is tight and fierce and Dean knows he's close. “When you put off your own pleasure because you're more concerned with mine. When you hold my hand at the table even though Sam's sitting right there.” And now Dean's laughing because Cas is too far gone to remember it's weird to say Sam's name right now, because he didn't know how much that last meant to Cas, because he's high on how Castiel sees him and what it means.

Castiel is taking care of him. He's taking care of Dean and he's telling him it's okay. It's _okay_ to not hate himself. 

And suddenly Dean can't just lie there. Castiel's grip has gone slack and Dean drops the leash, doesn't need it anymore. He twists his head over his shoulder and gasps, “ _Cas,_ ” and somehow the angel understands. He pulls out of Dean despite the moan of protest they both let loose, and flips Dean onto his back. The leash falls to the floor as Castiel pushes Dean's knees out and slides back in, and now Dean can see just how wild Castiel has become. His hair is a sweaty mess dripping down into wide, glazed eyes that are nearly black with how blown his pupils are. Dean reaches out without thinking and Castiel comes to him, plants his hands on either side of Dean's head and finally seals their mouths together in the kiss Dean didn't realize he needed this badly until now. 

For a moment, there is nothing but the thick, hot feel of Castiel inside him and the pleasant pressure of their mouths sliding together. The game is over, but it doesn't matter because Castiel took care of him, gave him everything Dean didn't even know he needed, and Dean knows he'll do it again whenever Dean wants it. 

Castiel pulls back a bit, just enough that they're still breathing into each other's mouths without really touching. He supports himself with his left hand while he reaches down with his right and wraps it around Dean's cock. Dean knows it's more angel-strength than body-strength, but it's still sexy as hell and he says so. He grins when Castiel chuckles breathlessly and nuzzles his nose against Dean's, a move that's so mushy and affectionate that it might earn a grunt of disgust from Dean if he wasn't so busy feeling warm and elated.

When Dean comes, it's the kind of orgasm that burns its way through his entire body, a searing pleasure that's so intense he can't even make a sound. He just gasps against Castiel's open mouth and bucks helplessly between his hand and his cock, his hands clenching down into Castiel's shoulders. Castiel makes a sound that's almost like a snarl. He takes his hand from Dean's cock and smears it through the come on Dean's belly, and then brings it up and slaps it against the handprint he left there so many years ago. Dean can't help his soft moan at the possessive gesture.

“Come on, Cas,” Dean pants, leaning up to brush his lips lightly across Castiel's. “Know you wanna come.”

“ _Dean_ ,” Castiel hisses. He thrust in deep and hits Dean's prostate, making him shudder hard, oversensitive. “Dean, I – !”

Whatever Cas meant to say is lost in a mangled shout as he comes. Dean watches the awe and pleasure crash across Castiel's face, watches as his eyes close and his expression twists in on itself because no matter how many times he experiences it, Castiel is always overwhelmed by the climax. 

Dean's expecting it when Castiel collapses on top of him. He hugs Cas with both his arms and his legs, holding the angel in and against him. 

Castiel is the one to break the silence some ten minutes later, and when he does his voice is hesitant and hopeful. “Did I... do that correctly?”

Dean can't help the laugh that punches out of him. “Yeah,” he chuckles. “Yeah, Cas, you did that correctly.”

Castiel lifts his head, and when Dean looks up the angel is smiling. Dean kisses the crinkles in the corners of his eyes just because he wants to, and because he knows Castiel likes it when he does sappy things like that.

Huh. Look at that. A reason not to hate himself. 

“ _Very_ correctly,” Dean says, almost absently. 

“Was it what you had in mind?” Castiel asks. He looks startled when Dean tilts back his head and _laughs_ , but he says nothing until Dean recovers enough to speak.

“Not even close,” Dean gasps. “You knew better than I did.”

Castiel nods like that's perfectly normal, which makes Dean snort and shake his head fondly. 

Dean feels fingers at the buckle of the collar. He lets the leash fall away, but reaches up quickly with one hand to stop the angel before he can undo the collar. He shakes his head when Castiel looks at him questioningly.

“I wanna leave it on for a while,” Dean says. 

“All right,” Castiel agrees easily. He smiles at Dean and removes his hand from the buckle, like Dean's request isn't weird at all.

And it isn't, Dean realizes. Not to Cas. Nothing about what they just did was weird to Cas. It was what Dean needed, what he _wanted_ , and to Cas that made it _good._

Dean presses his lips to Castiel's. He always thinks he can't love the angel anymore than he already does, and he's always wrong. 

~

END


End file.
